A new puppy brings love and cuteness. They need it. I find myself continually moving. When my back is turned, my cuteness, Bella, will find something. Perhaps a slipper, maybe underwear from a hamper, socks or my favourite Yoga tee. She has discovered the wood as a great source for things to chew, loves to jump up on the counters or table, after all, that's where I keep the real good stuff.
The other morning as I made my way through my morning routine, interrupted by trips to retrieve something from her yet again, I realized she was alone in the kitchen. I yelled to Fynn, "Bella's alone in the kitchen," he bounded from his room to save the butter dish.
I crate her during the day and worry the whole time about the unfairness of it. Saturday I decided I would puppy proof a room and leave her there with more space. I came home to a door barricaded with a fallen crash pad, skates and little feathers swirling through the air. Apparently sleeping bag tags are fair game.
I find myself thinking back to my past puppy days. Autumn who chewed anything with snaps, socks and undies too. Sebring just chewed her stuffed toy. Tour, I really cannot remember with Tour. And then I realize, the reason I cannot remember is not because they didn't misbehave and get into trouble, I still have scratches from Luna on the door frame and chewed window sills compliments of Tour. It's because all the years of loving them erased those infractions that seemed so large at the time.
My interventions will continue, and I will try to remember that one day I will not even remember this behaviour that seems so disruptive. But I will remember all the love those big brown eyes are trying to convey. Suppose this is true with humans too.